


Promptfest Ficlets

by unos (numerical)



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 03:13:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20521007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/numerical/pseuds/unos
Summary: This is a collection of ficlets of about 500 words that stand completely independent from each other. I won't tag them so I won't clog ship and content tags that deserve better, but I'll write a little summary with content warnings in the author's note of each ficlet so you guys can pick and choose which one to read.





	1. Hyperfixation

**Author's Note:**

> I'm collecting these ficlets here rather than on tumblr as I've done the previous years, because tumblr is dead lol. Maybe I'll bring the ficlets of the past over here, who knows.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen, No Pairing, Team Japan Shenanigans, Keiji Is Everyone's Older Brother Aka Father and He Despairs Often
> 
> For Linh!

“I’m not saying it’s my favourite,” Keiji says, voice raised over the hum of the bus, “but it’s definitely up there.” 

Shoma looks at him, then back at his phone. He seems unconvinced. 

One has not known suffering until one’s best friend refuses to watch the piece of media that has shaped one into the person one is today. Not that JoJo was that important to Keiji, that formative. It’s just that he’s obsessed with it a perfectly healthy amount. 

And don’t tell Shoma Keiji called him his best friend. He’s get overwhelmed, and then awkward and stiff, and it would take at least a year for him to relax again. And then he’d be smug as hell about it. 

Keiji does not have time for that. Keiji has a mission. Keiji is going to get Shoma to watch JoJo, arguably one of the best works of narrative media in the world, and Shoma is going to ENJOY IT. 

From behind him, RIka giggles. “I haven’t seen it,” she says, with a knowing glint to her eyes that speaks of so many years of life experience that a sixteen year old should not have. Kaori, next to her, grins her most innocuous and yet utterly mischievous smile. It is a special skill, that smile, a weapon all in itself. Rika continues, undeterred. “But if you want Shoma to watch it…” 

She leans forward, devilish in her brilliance, and Keiji understands, immediately, that this will be the kind of devious plan only a teenage girl could conceive of “You have to make Yuzu watch it first.” 

Whiplash. Keiji’s ideas involved a lot more locking Shoma into a hotel room after the competition without his phones, or his trainer, or access to any sort of internet capable device, and perhaps some matchsticks in his eyes. 

“Or we could have a movie night,” Satoko suggests, gently, from where she’s been listening quietly. “After the competition. I could bring popcorn?” 

With a delay of three minutes due to his being distracted, Shoma twists to look at Rika and Kaori. “Why would Yuzu watching JoJo lead to me watching JoJo?” 

They giggle. Shoma looks confused. Also kind of sleepy. Keiji finds that those two moods often blur into one another. 

“We don’t share a brain,” Shoma says, slowly. Kaori and Rika giggle, heads nudged together. Shoma’s phone buzzes in his hand. Keiji sighs, deeply, because there is no prying Shoma away from that thing. It might as well be part of his body by now. Keiji wouldn’t be surprised if he stuck it into his underpants during competition skates. 

“What does Yuzu say?” Keiji asks, because there’s only one person who makes Shoma’s gaming phone buzz. 

“That we do share a single braincell.” 

Satoko nods, wisely. “He has custody of it right now, doesn’t he.” 

Keiji sighs again, deeper, if that is possible. Sometimes he feels like he is fifty years old and a father of four. Then he remembers that time Shoma and him recreated a YuGiOh fight in his hotel room, and cheers right up. 

“Movie night. I’m making you guys binge season four and if any of you fall asleep, I   
will make you suffer.” 

Shoma phone buzzes again. He looks at it, then at Keiji, and says “Yuzu says nobody can make us suffer more than him, and I think he can read your mind.” 

Behind him, Kaori and Rika giggle harder. 


	2. Clutch Courage to your Chest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yuzusho, body worship, light kink, sensuality, none sex left suit kink, definitely more than 500 words lol
> 
> For Tess!

Shoma hovers by the door, looking ill at ease in his stiff suit with the orange tie. 

Yuzuru’s fingers itch. He’s been wanting to give Shoma a new tie, but he’s not exactly a connoisseur of formal attire himself. He finds himself running his under the collar of his own white shirt, too wide just like the shoulders of his suit. 

Tomorrow, he’ll scroll through an endless feed of fans yelling about the fit of his suit. 

Today, Yuzu just wants to be out of it. 

Ideally, by the time the night ends, Shoma will be out of his suit, also. 

Yuzu smiles at the volunteer shyly holding out a phone to him, shakes his head to decline, eyes tracking Shoma’s slow trek along the walls of the banquet hall. Shoma’s eyes are dark, but awake for once, aware of his surroundings and curious. 

Yuzu wonders if he’s hurt at what happened. If he’s aching with it the way Yuzu would. Is, honestly, his ambition stoked and his ego bruised by a silver. 

Shoma makes it to the table assigned to most of team Japan. Yuzu grasps his chance, makes his way over there in long, determined strides that beg not to be interrupted. Not by a friendly greeting, not by a mournfully empathetic apology, none of that. 

He makes it, out of breath, and meets Shoma’s eyes for the first time tonight. 

Shoma smiles, a slow uncurling motion that moves from his eyes towards his lips, hitting every feature of his face. Yuzu, of course, smiles back. There are no other options when confronted with this face, this boy. 

Before he can stop himself, he’s got a hand pressed between Shoma’s shoulder blades. 

Shoma breathes in, deep, measured, and his gaze sharpens. 

They barely get through dinner, thighs pressed together under the table, exchanging glances that feel like a well-worn thread of a joke between friends, dipped in gasoline and set on fire. 

What Yuzu wants, more than a quad axel, more than a quint, more than breaking every world record, more than vengeance for this silver medal, is to get Shoma out of his suit. 

There is a show, after dinner, as always. Then there’s dancing. Yuzu can’t disappear, too much of a celebrity amongst his fellow skaters, and so they spend hours exchanging glances across the banquet room, while talking to other people. Yuzu loses sight of him, turns and reorients himself. It feels like Shoma is his sun, the point that Yuzu wants to center himself to. 

He wants to bury his face in Shoma’s stomach and forget this noise for a little while. Forget the disappointment and the pain of the past season, forget it all, for a precious few hours. 

Sweet oblivion, Yuzu thinks, the words singing like a quote in the back of his head, when he finally excuses himself. Like magic, like he’s just as magnetically attached to Yuzu as is true in reverse, Shoma appears while Yuzu waits for the elevator. 

He’s taken off his jacket and the tie, the shirt sitting puffed over the belt of his tight pants. Yuzu wants to pull it up, and up, and out, wants to slide his hands under and feel if Shoma is still velvet over steel, soft and hard at the same time, an impossible collection of contrasts. 

“Can I,” he asks, the first words they’ve exchanged all evening, when Shoma is finally in his room, just over the threshold. “Let me.” And Shoma just nods, doesn’t even bother to speak, and Yuzu is soft at the knees at that. At being given permission, at being allowed. 

His hands roam, without plan or place, finding their way across his chest and down, counting buttons in the back of his mind, the thin cotton of the shirt warm between his skin and Shoma’s. 

“Thank you.” 

Shoma smiles, again, the same wave of pleasure and affection rolling over his face. He steps back, lifts his arms, and reaches for a kiss that Yuzu gladly bestows on him. Shallow and soft and warm, because there’s sex, and there’s Yuzu’s need to map every inch of him. 

The shirt goes, pulled from the trousers and belt, buttons opened at the neck, and then Shoma is all skin, and skin and skin and Yuzu is on his kees before he knows it, pushing Shoma to sit on the bed with a keen that is all need and very little control. 

He has his face pressed to his chest, mouth catching first at one nip, then the other, mapping his clavicle, his chest, his tummy. Down the center line and to his belly button, lower. 

Shoma sits, waiting, letting Yuzu roam, for long moments. 

Parts of Yuzu always want to second-guess this, part of him is always ashamed at his need to adore, but Shoma just takes it, never say anything but “yes,” and “go ahead” and “whatever you want.” 

“You’re perfect,” Yuzu whispers against his skin, and “Gorgeous,” and “for me,” and a litany of praise, while his lips map out every inch of skin, find the lines of Shoma’s ribs and trace them, nuzzling and kissing. 

Shoma’s hand comes down on the back of his neck, a warm presence that doesn’t push or pull. If Yuzu were to look up, he’d find a fondness in Shoma’s eyes, a smile on his face but not his lips, affection to rival his own. 

He doesn’t look up. 


	3. Spill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yuzusho. idiots in a coffeeshop!au, enemies to lovers, idiots to lovers, yuzu is irritating, shoma is every fanyu on twitter, thirst, shoma is mildly ooc oops
> 
> For T!

There is a naked guy in Shoma’s favourite coffeeshop. 

Well, that’s a little unfair. It’s not really Shoma’s favourite coffeeshop, it’s Shoma’s favourite place to find manga, and it has coffee. And it has this big soft leather couch everybody else is intimidated by, so Shoma sits there with his games and his manga and his milky coffee drink, and spends an hour or five there. 

The point is: Shoma is a regular, which means that this coffeeshop is now his coffeeshop, and he feels somewhat responsible for it. And the guy is nearly naked. He’s indecent. 

His. His collar bones are out. And so is half of his chest. And he’s wearing these slouchy sweat pants that are worn through and look comfortably like he’s slept in them for the past five years, and a comfy cardigan, and the point is: that is inappropriate attire to go out in public in. 

Then the guy, with his unfairly clear skin and elegant hands, orders a hot chocolate. A hot chocolate with ginger. 

Shoma gags a little. He can’t quite look away despite his disgust, though. He has a nice smile. A dumb, nice smile, that’s a little to bright and makes his entire face scrunch up, and he has no chin, so that shouldn’t be cute. 

But it is. 

Shoma feels hot. It’s because everything is unfair, and the guy is coming over to Shoma’s squashy leather couch, with a light, confident walk that is absolutely not appealing at all. 

He looks down at Shoma. Shoma drops his phone. It falls down on the manga spread out over his knees and knocks it to the floor. 

The guy snorts, leans to help Shoma, Shoma leans over, and his forehead connects with his coffee cup. 

It flies. 

There’s coffee all over the guy’s comfy sweats and… shit. Fancy shoes. 

“I’m sorry,” Shoma says, on reflex, because technically this is all the naked guy’s fault. If he hadn’t come into Shoma’s coffeeshop--

“Eh,” naked guy says, “I’ll take that as an invitation to sit down. Aren’t you going to get me some napkins?” 

Shoma stares at him. The guy smiles, slow and languid and completely differently than the scrunchy friendliness directed at the barista. Shoma wants to dislike him. 

“I’m Yuzu,” the guy says, and his shirt slips down his shoulder. 

Shoma sees red. There is no better strategic choice in the face of such an attack but retreat. 

He will conquer back his coffeeshop another day. 


	4. Bright Futures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisuke/Tatsuki, kinda gen. Idiots. former lovers talking about the future, slightly angsty
> 
> Originally posted here: https://uno2.tumblr.com/post/177743134184/would-you-mind-doing-a-prompt-for-daitatsuki-uwu

At some point, Tatsuki had learned to hold his cards close to his chest. Dai missed the exact moment: it must have happened sometime after he retired, sometime after they stopped telling each other their plans for the future, all their small dreams. 

Dai had spent a lot of time backstage sitting on an uncomfortable chair, waiting for his chariot ride along the rink and staring at Tatsuki while he laughs with the others. It’s not like Dai wasn’t talking to people: he was catching up with everyone just the same. But it was hard to get Tatsuki alone, even though he still lingers at the outskirts of conversations, talking to people like they’re alone even in the crowd. 

Dai managed to corner Tatsuki only after his farewell speech. He suspects it is because Tatsuki let him. Maybe because Dai ostensibly didn’t listen. He did, of course he did, from behind the curtain, hiding the raw emotion on his face.

Tatsuki raises a single, very expressive eyebrow, and Dai stumbles over his words, tries to crack a joke, awkwardly, hands carding through his hair. “Ironic, isn’t it? That you retire from skating just when I return?” 

Tatsuki doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even smile. “That’s not irony,” he says, with a thin line forming between his eyebrows, “that’s just bad timing.” 

“Well…” Dai shrugs, laughs again to dissipate the odd feeling in his chest. “It’s… It’s still unexpected.” 

He doesn’t mean to sound hurt. But he does, vaguely. It’s something about the uptick in his voice, a slight hitch that Dai is usually aware of and hides well. But not with Tatsuki. Never with him, not when merely the casual caress of ringfinger to thumb cracks Dai’s chest wide open. 

Tatsuki shrugs. There’s the trace of a smile on his face, just enough to let Dai know he’s distantly amused, that if Dai tried a little harder, he could make it real: a genuine smile, maybe a laugh, even. But Tatsuki stays guarded, and Dai doesn’t know where to begin to break through. It leaves him dissatisfied, unsettled. 

“I guess so,” Tatsuki says, voice idle. His eyeliner is smudged, as always after a performance, after a show. There’s a shine high on his cheekbones that reflects even the dim light. He looks like he wants to leave, and Dai misses the past so desperately. 

“Are you happy?” he asks, rushed and raw, before Tatsuki can turn away. Tatsuki’s eyes widen with surprise, and then there’s warmth in them. 

“I am,” he says and nods to himself. 

Dai feels something loosen in his chest. It used to be that Tatsuki was driven just the way Dai was: regret and ambition, twisting and turning into something inpossible to let go of. 

“And I am going to be. My path is clear and bright.” 

It’s good. At some point, Dai wants to be able to smile at Tatsuki without regret in his eyes. He’s not there yet. It’s good to know that Tatsuki is ahead of him in this. He’d followed Daisuke so faithfully, step for step, and now…

“Yours can be, too,” Tatsuki says. He smiles, and it is not the shy, almost sheepish thing he used to throw Dai, but something self-assured and all the more beautiful for it. 

His knuckles brush the back of Daisuke’s hand. 


	5. Sendai Beef

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuzusho. obliviousness, food, silly boys
> 
> originally posted here: https://uno2.tumblr.com/post/177776646209/yuzu-invites-shooms-to-a-bbq-restaurant-in-his

“Do you like it?” Yuzu asks eagerly. 

“Mmhh,” Shoma hums around a bite of beef, and nods. It’s tender and savoury and delicious. He’s glad the show stopped in Sendai. Yuzu pushed all the weight of his many accolades into having a two day stop at home, rather than just one as usual. 

“Are you staying at home?” Shoma asks, carefully around the meat in his mouth. he doesn’t want to be gross, so he puts his hand up to hide his mouth. Yuzu laughs at his effort and shrugs. 

“I have a hotel room booked, and my family is coming to both shows tomorrow.” There’s something shifty about the way he hesitates. “I’ll see them there for sure, so… So it depends.”

Shoma has a single bed as well. He knows some of the other skaters double up, but Yuzu never does. He springs for his own room even when the show he is taking part in doesn’t cover the expense. Shoma takes another piece of beef, juicy and delicious, and chews. 

Yuzu watches him with careful eyes and his grin perfectly in place. 

“What does it depend on,” Shoma asks, after a long silence. 

Yuzu shrugs. He opens his mouth to speak, changes his mind. Then he shrugs again. “I guess it depends on how much you like sendai beef?” 

Shoma stares at him. He’s missing something, he’s sure of it, but he doesn’t quite know what. He has felt wrong-footed ever since Yuzu dragged him out to eat. Yuzu told Shoma how to dress. The restauarnt is dimly lit and there are candles everywhere, it’s quite a lot more atmospheric than Shoma is used to. 

He ends up eating a few more pieces before settling on what to say. 

“Well I love it a lot,” he tells Yuzu, a little lost at how that relates to sleeping arrangements. Yuzu laughs at him. Shoma finds himself laughing back, even though Yuzu’s cryptic words are niggling at the back of his mind. 

“Cool,” Yuzu says, “that means this date is going well, right?” 

The penny drops.


End file.
